In Noctem
by LunaClaraDia
Summary: Pre-Half Blood Prince: A retelling of the 6th novel. Severus and Hermione form an unlikely relationship as both are tested mentally and physically by the second wizarding war. Picks up at the start of the term. Novel length. In progress. (Warning: eventual adult themes.) Proceed with caution, dearies. (I'm looking for beta readers for this. PM me if that's up your alley.)
1. 1 - Severus

It was the end of August; only a few short days remained before classes started up again. The castle was empty, save for the odd ghost or professor; the only sounds to be heard were the echoes of Peeves' mischief, and the whispering summer winds that entered through cracks in the castle's stained-glass windows. It was, in Severus' opinion, the most beautiful time of the year.

On this crisp end-of-summer evening, he sat hunched over his desk, pouring over various potion-making notes. He'd been working for hours, and had barely noticed the sun's retreat from the sky. He found that he'd always gotten the most work done on nights like these- without the distractions of whining first-years, without the looming grading deadlines, and without the stress of Slytherin's seemingly hopeless battle for the house cup. Of course, as of late, he'd had bigger, more sinister things to worry about, as his dual role in Voldemort's ever-advancing war got bigger by the moment. The beginning of this school year would surely bring him more stress, more misery, and more pain than any in the past. And so he worked on, indulging himself by studying what he truly loved to do, enjoying his last few days of freedom.

It must have been past midnight by the time Severus looked up from his notes. It was easy to lose track of time in the dungeons. The lack of windows made it virtually impossible to deduce the time of day. Noting the incessant hunger pains with an irritated groan, the potions master at long last left his desk. His graceful gait echoed through empty halls as he exhaustedly made his way out of the damp darkness of the Hogwarts dungeons. Retrieving his wand from his cloak, he flicked it once, and after a brief nonverbal spell it was illuminated, filling the corridors with light.

After a light meal from the Hogwarts kitchen (filled, of course, with unapproving ramblings from the house elves about his appetite as of late), he was finally free to roam the empty castle. Sleep had been nonexistant for Severus for quite a while now, and he'd made a habit of pacing about Hogwarts from late night until morning almost every night. Tonight, he set out immediately for one of his favorite thinking spots, the astronomy tower.

The night was quiet, and the sky empty. There were no clouds. He sat in his usual spot, perched on top of the tower, leaning against the castle's stone wall, gazing up at the stars. The stillness of the night was beautiful.

He'd noticed that the Hogwarts elves had been bustilng about faster and more anxiously than usual. The ghosts of the castle too, were chatting ceaselessly about the new batch of first years to come. This was a yearly happening; they'd boast about who's house would receive the most students (oftentimes the Bloody Baron would win these arguments, his threatening gaze winning out over any of the other ghost's opinions).

_'Is it already the thirty-first?' _Severus thought to himself, running a hand through his neglected hair. He did some brief mental math, and realized that it was indeed the penultimate day of his summer break. Truthfully, Snape wasn't prepared for this year to begin. There was so much being asked of him, both from Voldemort and Dumbledore. He'd recently learned of the Dark Lord's request of the Malfoy boy, and had, in a moment of stupidity, taken an Unbreakable Vow to protect the foolish boy. How he was going to be able to contend with the demands of playing a double-agent in the most dangerous war of his time, running the Slytherin house, and teaching Defence, he hadn't worked out. He sat in a solemn silence, evading responsibility and sleep once again, until the sun was at its peak the next morning.

"Ah, Severus. I thought I might find you here. Another sleepless night, I presume?" The voice was unmistakeable, but Snape turned his head, blocking the sun from his eyes to see the familiar half-moon-spectacles of Albus Dumbledore staring back at him.

"Looks that way." Severus responded, coldly.

Albus chuckled, and regarded his old friend warmly, despite his snarky attitude.

"It really would do you well to get some rest. I've offered many times, I can make you something to help-" Dumbledore began, but was at once cut off.

"I don't doubt your magical prowess, Albus, but as I've told you time and time again, I am fine. Now if you'll get on with the real reason you've saught me out, I haven't the patience for your nonsensical musings this morning."

"My dear Severus, it is hardly the morning." Dumbledore responded with twinkling eyes. "I merely came to escort you to the Great Hall, for the beginning of the term staff dinner, if you'll have us."

The older wizard held out his arm, expectantly. Severus sneered, before accepting Albus and walking beside him back towards the castle's center. They were an odd pair; Dumbledore hummed a nonsensical tune, his long lilac robes dancing along with him through the halls, while Severus' scowl and hair-covered eyes made even the portraits along the walls duck out of sight as his black robes swept by.

He'd expected Dumbledore to try and learn more about the doings of the Death Eaters. He was pleasantly surprised, however, when they had made it all the way to the doors of the Great Hall in silence. Albus stopped before entering the hall. He stood across from Severus, his warm blue eyes smiling.

"In but a few hours, the hardest year yet at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry will begin. I do hope you're prepared for the challenges ahead," he spoke cheerfully, "I feel especially sorry for the Malfoy boy." He added quietly, before opening the doors with a swish of his wand, and joining the rest of the staff at the head table.

Severus stood behind, bewildered. He hadn't told Albus of Draco's task yet. He had been hoping to avoid the subject, and was nothing short of shocked when Dumbledore had brought it up as casually as if he was commenting on a change in the weather.

"Foolish old man." He muttered to himself, shaking his head in disbelief. Noting the awkwardly quiet table of professors at the end of the hall in front of him, he began striding towards the table at long last. They'd clearly been waiting for him before they began their final meal before the beginning of the year. He took his usual seat beside Madam Hooch, regarding her with a curt nod.

Albus stood at the head of the table, a goblet in his hand.

"To the start of another year!" He exclaimed finally, breaking the silence, "And to the good health of our returning Potions master, Horace Slughorn!" He raised his goblet, and the rest of the staff followed. Food appeared suddenly on the table, a large banquet of the finest meats and sides the house elves were capable of making. As the staff conversed, catching up with one another, Severus locked eyes with Dumbledore. His black eyes bored into the old man with a questioning gaze. Albus' eyes twinkled. Snape thought he saw the slightest wink before the Headmaster broke his gaze, and sat down to resume conversation with an eager Slughorn.

'_Albus Dumbledore, you will be the absolute death of me.' _ Snape thought to himself, grimacing, before helping himself to the midday meal.

The professors remained chatting merrily for hours as the sun climbed and began to fall again in the sky. The growing darkness was met with the anticipation of arriving students. Slowly the party broke up, and everyone readied themselves for their first night duties. McGonnagall fetched the Sorting Hat, Albus cleared the tables, and Severus left the castle. He stood in the dusk light by the grounds' gates, leaning tiredly against them. Any moment now, the thestrals would be carrying the second through seventh years to the castle on their usual path, and his quiet summer would be over.


	2. 2 - Hermione

**( Thank you to everyone for the wonderful thoughts about my first chapter! It's great to have support for just a simple beginning of a story. I've got some wonderful plans for this one. Look out for some Snape's first lesson as Defence professor next chapter, and some new developments in the wizarding war! Keep reviewing and following, my dears, the support means everything to me! I'm always much more inclined to write when I know I've got people waiting to read. I hope you enjoy things from Hermione's perspective for a change! *Wendy- I also love stories that center on the 6th book, and couldn't agree more about the Dumbledore/Snape thing. I am always very put off by the fics that have Dumbledore as some cruel and emotionless old man, ha. Thanks for your suport my dear!* )**

Hermione Granger was meant to be surveying the rumbling corridors of the Hogwarts Express, keeping an eye out for any student activity that warranted Prefect intervention. She usually took her duties as Prefect seriously, unlike Ron. However, as the English countryside raced past, she was wandering the train aimlessly, her mind occupied by one thing.

_'Exceeds Expectations.' _ She thought to herself, shaking her head, _'9 Outstandings ruined by Defence of Dark Arts.'_ She'd been unable to shake the disappointment in herself since receiving her exam results earlier that week. Of course, Harry and Ron had done nothing but poke fun at her for her meaningless discontent. She was suddenly aware of a sharp jab to her ribs. Ron's elbow.

"Hermione, there's a couple third years trying to hex one another right in front of us." Ron whined, irritated with her mental fogginess.

"Oh- oh right, of course." Hermione said, clearing her head and focusing now on the third-year Gryffindors in the compartment closest to them. They were pointing their wands at one another menacingly, each bragging about their so-called proclivity for winning duels.

Hermione slid the compartment's door open in the blink of an eye, and at once disarmed them.

"Gryffindor house is known for the bravery, chivalry, and nerve. The pair of your actions are making me believe you were better suited for Slytherin." Hermione said authoritatively, making the third-years back off, wide-eyed, and scared. "It pains me to do so, but for your sheer recklessness and stupidity, I'll have to take ten points from Gryffindor. Each."

Ron groaned beside her. He'd never taken the Prefect duties seriously, particularly when it came to punishing his own house. The third-years nodded solemnly, and Hermione returned them their wands with a disheartened look. Turning on her heel, she made her way back down the train's corridor, Ron hurrying to keep up with her.

"'Mione, you couldn't let them off with a warning…. Starting the year at negative points? Why've you gotta be so mental all the time?" He asked, exasperated.

"Someone's got to take it seriously." Hermione answered simply, with a flick of her hair. "We'll be arriving soon, Ronald. Let's go find Harry and the others."

The pair wandered back through the rumbling train, Hermione taking care to nonverbally disarm a few inappropriately acting students, giving each a menacing look. Ron chuckled beside her, giving each of her victims an apologetic shrug. When they finally made it back to Harry's compartment, the train had reached the station. They'd have maybe a few minutes to relax before they once more had to resume Prefect duties, shuffling confused first-years off to the boats, and herding the rest towards the carriages.

"I'm sorry we couldn't be with you all during the ride, Prefect duties, you know?" Hermione said apologetically, smiling at Harry, Luna, and Neville. Ron grunted in agreement.

"I was just telling Neville and Luna about what we saw in Diagon Alley, with Malfoy." Harry said quietly, eyes shifting to make sure no one was listening in. "_They_ agree with me that something's up."

"Harry, c'mon, if we spent so much time analyzing every creepy thing Malfoy did, we'd never have time to live. He's a creepy bloke." Ron said, exasperated.

"I agree with Ron, Harry, there's just no evidence that it was anything out of the ordinary. Draco's not exactly the most respectable of men. It's not unusual for him to be at Borgin and Burkes." Hermione agreed.

"But at Madam Malkins, his arm-" Harry began, voice raising, but he was cut off almost immediately.

"We've got to go….." Hermione said quietly, grabbing Ron's arm and yanking him out of their compartment, towards the front of the train where they'd begin directing students. Once they were out of earshot of Harry, Hermione sighed.

"I thought I saw him grab his cloak as we left. If Harry's about to spy on Malfoy, he really has gone mental." She said to Ron, chuckling.

Their time directing students to the boats and carriages went well, with just a few confused first-years, and one motion-sick fourth-year that required directions to Madam Pomfrey's at once. As the last few first-years trotted off anxiously towards the lake, Hermione looked at Ron anxiously.

"Have we missed Harry? I didn't see him pass us."

"I'm sure we just didn't notice, 'Mione, don't be so bloody stressed," Ron whined, rubbing his belly with a pained look on his face, "c'mon, let's get that last carriage and head to the castle. I'm starving."

"I suppose you might be right." Hermione said, but her face remained crumpled by anxiety. Still, though, she was hungry and tired, and jumped into the last carriage with Ron and a few other prefects. The eerie elegance of the thestrals was wonderful to behold, and she spent the entire ride gazing at their skeletal yet graceful gait. The circumstances of her being able to see them, however, were undeniably unfortunate. A day didn't go by that she didn't remember the death of Sirius at the Department of Mysteries at the end of last year. She knew that this year at Hogwarts would be different, given Voldemort's return, and the events of last year. Times were changing. A full-on wizarding war was quickly materializing. That silent dark night felt eerily calm, like a quiet moment before a storm.

When the carriage finally reached the gates of the castle, Hermione was surprised to find a gaggle of odd professors awaiting them, along with a pile of belongings of various students. Professor Snape and Flitwick were at the head of the pack, greeting students as though they were not to be trusted. She made her way towards the two professors, confused at this increase in security. She and Ron were ushered through the gates, and Ron quickly made his way to Flitwick (avoiding Snape was a particular talent of his), leaving Severus to check Hermione in.

"Name?" Snape's deep silky voice rang out menacingly, as he regarded the young witch with cruel black eyes. He stood a foot taller than her, looking as threatening as ever in his long black cloak and high collar.

"P-professor, you've known me since first year." Hermione said quietly, her cheeks turning an embarrassed shade of pink.

"As much as I'd love to listen to your shrill and irritating voice, there are students behind you who need to be checked-in as well." Snape responded harshly, his eyes boring into her own.

"Granger. Hermione." Hermione said quickly, her eyes welling with tears. She'd never done well when professors spoke to her in a disappointed tone. She watched as Snape marked her off from his list with a satisfied smirk.

'_Bloody git,' _she thought, as she stormed towards the Great Hall angrily, '_no professor should take pleasure in frightening young students.' _

Finally reaching the Great Hall, she sped towards the Gryffindor table and took a seat next to Ron, her cheeks flushed with irritation.

"What's got your panties in a knot, then?" Ron questioned, nudging her in the side. He didn't wait for an answer before stuffing his face with treacle tart, stacking his plate as high as he could with the dessert spread before them.

Hermione scowled at him. They'd been friends for 5 years, yet she still was disgusted by his endless appetite and constant ignorance.

"If you hadn't noticed, your best friend Harry is _still_ missing." She spat back at him, smacking him on the arm with one of the heavier books in her arsenal.

Ron grunted angrily, before pointing his finger to the back of the room.

"Bloody lunatic, turn around! He's right there!"

Sure enough, as Hermione turned around, she saw a somewhat blood-stained Harry walking towards them, Luna Lovegood by his side, smiling absent-mindedly. When Harry reached her, he gave her a quick pat on the back and sat between her and Ron, digging in to the food before it disappeared and Dumbledore started his start-of-term speech.

"Are you going to explain yourself?" Hermione asked him. Harry shook his head in response, his cheeks bulging with food.

"Later." He managed to spit out between bites.

Hermione sat back, relaxing on the bench. Another year at Hogwarts had barely begun, and already there were multiple causes for concern. Harry's disappearance, the gates' stepped-up security, and the overall eerie feel of the evening. Dumbledore himself looked more solemn than usual, as she eyed him chatting with Professor McGonagall at the staff table.

A few minutes later, he stood, and clapped his hands together. The food vanished from the tables (much to Ron and Harry's displeasure), and the sound of the students' chatter slowly diminished to silence. He cleared his throat, and began his welcome speech.


	3. 3 - Severus

**(Good evening, everyone! You may find this chapter to be eerily similar to that of Queen Rowling's initial description of Snape's first class, but I felt it necessary to include, just to get things going. Look forward to some midnight roaming of the castle next chapter, and a meeting of Ms. Granger and Mr. Snape in the dark. Hope you all enjoy! x Review, review, review! I love your input!)**

Severus was due to start his first Defense lesson of the term in just a few moments. It was an unusually chilly Monday morning. He sat in the front of the room at the unfamiliar desk, reviewing some paperwork and lesson plans before the influx of students. His first class would be sixth-year N.E.W.T. students, thankfully. He wasn't sure if he'd have the patience to teach senseless first years menial magic so early in the morning. He glanced briefly over the list of students who'd achieved the required scores on their O.W.L's to enter the class. Granger and Malfoy he'd expected, the pair were constantly neck and neck vying for the highest scores in any course. He'd secretly wished that Potter and Weasley would've failed out in their fifth year, and save him the agony of their weekly presence. He'd drawn curtains over all of the windows in the room, lighting the space with candles instead, hoping to keep some semblance of his old potions classroom. He smirked as he glanced at the new portraits adorning the walls of the Defense classroom, many of which showed grisly and gruesome scenes. The sound of approaching steps outside of the door filled his years now, a quiet murmur of anxious sixth years growing louder and louder as they reached the classroom.

Snape groaned, and stood. He strode to the classroom door and opened it slowly, regarding the anxious queue of students in front of him with cold black eyes. Silence filled the hall instantly.

"Inside." He ordered, waiting for the line to diminish and the students to take their places at the desks. Once they had settled, Severus slammed the door behind him, and sauntered lazily to his desk at the front of the room. His eyes at once settled on Granger, who had already taken out her copy of _Confronting the Faceless_ and was practically bouncing in her seat, eager for direction.

"I do not recall asking anyone to take out their books." Severus said sharply, glaring at the foolish Gryffindor girl. Her cheeks turned a deep shade of crimson and she hastily stuffed the textbook back in her book bag. Snape sneered, and once again turned to face his class.

"Given the fact that you have had five teachers already in this subject, and have learned by different methods and instruction, I am astonished that so many of you managed to scrape by with an O.W.L. in this subject. The work required for N.E.W.T. students will be exponentially more advanced. I doubt many of you will prove able to keep up." His black eyes shifted menacingly towards Weasley and Potter, clearly singling them out as the least able to compete with the coursework.

"The Dark Arts," said Snape "are constantly changing, and impossibly difficult to comprehend. Each time you think that you've mastered a concept or defeated an evil, it will have mutated, becoming infinitely more complex and dangerous." He paused, for dramatic effect, noting the solemn and overwhelmed faces of the gaggle of students in front of him.

"If you are to possess any chance against things such as the Cruciatus Curse" –he motioned towards one of the particularly gruesome portraits of a suffering witch, "feel the Dementor's Kiss, or even provoke the aggression of the Inferius… you must study vigilantly, and remain constantly on your feet." He finished.

Severus swept towards the back of the room, his dark robes billowing alongside him, students' gazes not once leaving him. His grease-filled black hair laid covering his face, and he once more stood silently, black eyes surveying each and every one of the students.

"The ability to perform spells non-verbally is essential to the defense against dark arts, or any magic for that matter. It requires mental discipline and concentration that I doubt any of you are capable at this point, yet you will work towards that point in this class." Snape said darkly. He turned on his heel and swept back towards the front of the class, perching on the edge of his desk.

"Can anyone tell me why it might be advantageous to use a nonverbal spell?" He asked the class. His dark eyes rolled to the ceiling as he noticed Granger's hand shoot up at the speed of light. She sat, springing in her seat as though about to explode, clearly about to burst with the answer. Snape took his precious time to look at every single other student, glancing hopefully at Draco. He sighed and realized he had no choice but to indulge the girl.

"Yes, Granger?" He asked, tersely.

"A nonverbal spell gives the user a distinct advantage. Your opponent will have no warning about the type of magic that you're planning on using, which in turn gives you a leg-up, although it is only for a short few seconds." She recited, puffing out her chest and looking pleased with herself as she sat back calmly down in her seat.

"10 points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger, for copying your answer almost word for word from your textbooks. Tut, tut." Snape spat back at the girl coldly. She slid low in her seat, clearly put out. He smirked as Harry squirmed in his seat, clearly about to burst with anger.

"SNAPE, you can't-" Harry began loudly, his fists curling, body shaking with rage.

"Professor, to you. As the head of Slytherin house and a professor at the school of Hogwarts, I assure you, I can take points as I wish. I recommend you bite your tongue, unless you'd prefer another 10 points taken?" Snape responded, the corner of his lip curling in a smirk. Harry, though looking as though he wanted to practice the Cruciatus curse that Snape had just been lecturing about, remained quiet, resigning himself to staring at his desk.

"Split into pairs. You are to attempt to jinx one another without speaking, and your partner will attempt to repel it in an equally silent manner." He turned his back on the class and sat back down at his desk, resuming his work, letting them go at it.

As the class wore on, Snape delightedly watched the failures of almost every pair. Several looked as though they were about to suffocate from trying to hard to keep their mouths shut. He noticed Granger repel a jinx from Longbottom without uttering a single word, and though that (albeit very slightly) impressed him, he retained his glowering glare at the pair.

As the class reached the end point, Snape attempted to intervene with Weasley's pathetic attempts at nonverbally cursing Potter, which warranted a fierce (spoken) shield charm from Harry. He was knocked backwards and hit a desk. Standing up, his face contorted with rage, he stalked towards Harry.

"Detention, Potter. Saturday." He said gruffly, and dismissed the class with an angered wave of his hand. The Gryffindors looked annoyingly smug as they raced out of the room, a silent chatter of approval for Harry echoing through the halls.

Severus returned now to his office, not sure what to think of his first lesson as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. He'd been eager to hold the post for quite some time, as he'd always felt that he was the most qualified to teach it, but now that it was finally his, he found himself longing for the dark and cold potions room. The dungeon walls, and the familiar smell of various potions ingredients, the calming bubbling of the cauldrons would elude him now indefinitely.

He thought back to a conversation he'd had with Albus a few weeks earlier about the Defense post, remembering how the position had been cursed since Voldemort was denied it. No professor had lasted a year. He felt slightly guilty as he silently wished the curse would free him of his duties too. Severus knew, deep down, that it was unlikely that he'd live much longer, given the state of things in the magical world. Surely this post would be his last. He stared solemnly at his desk, aching for the potions classroom.

Several hours later, after dealing with a few particularly agitating first years (who still didn't know how to hold their own wands), night was finally setting in, and Snape returned to his chambers in the dungeons. After attempting (with no success, as usual) to sleep, he rose from bed, and wrapping himself once more in his black robes, made his way out into the castle.

Wandering at night was when he'd always achieved his best thinking, anyways.


	4. 4 - Hermione

Hermione felt put out for the remainder of the day. Professor Snape's teaching, it seemed, regardless of the subject matter, was not compatible with her persona. The non-verbal spell practice in Defence had gone well enough. She'd succeeded in repelling a jelly-legs jinx from Neville without uttering a word, something that none of her classmates had come close to accomplishing. She'd even seen Snape watching her, and the absence of any recognition tore at her nerves for the rest of the day. Herbology, too, had been dreadful. Madam Sprout had the six-years dealing with the spiky and awful Venomous Tentacula. The plant that she and Ron had been assigned seemed particularly fond of catching Ron by surprise with its vines and partially strangling him before Hermione unenthusiastic-ally used a severing charm to stun it. This happened at least five times throughout the course of the lesson, and each time Ron was seemingly too afraid of it to remember the counter-curse. By the end of the class, on the plant's sixth attempt to suffocate her freckled friend, Hermione was so sick of liberating him from the Tentacula that she self-indulgently let him struggle for an extra few moments before resignedly waving her wand and watching Ron catch his breath with a pained and dramatic flair.

The group sat now in the Great Hall. Ron and Harry both stuffed their faces with kidney pie while Hermione nibbled at a casserole, a charms book splayed open in front of her instead of a plate. She tried to ignore the muffled conversation the pair were struggling to have with mouths full of food (it must've had something to do with Quidditch, though, judging by the way Harry was miming dodging bludgers, while Ron threw the imaginary balls enthusiastically his way).

'_When did I get such infantile friends? Are we still in the third year?_' Hermione thought to herself, rolling her eyes to the ceiling, as though praying to the enchanted ceiling for some divine intervention to take her away from this childish behavior. Her irritation with the first day of the term grew higher with every passing moment. She glanced up to the staff table, eyeing Professor Snape with an evil glare. He was oblivious, his thin-lipped mouth moving rapidly in the middle of a heated conversation with Professor McGongall, who kept motioning towards the House Cup hourglasses with a resigned look. Gryffindor was in last place, with barely fifty points. She apparently had been staring at him for too long, because out of nowhere came a sharp nudge on the leg.

"Oi, why are you staring at Snape? I don't think he'll give you back those ten points for staring at him like a nutter-"

"_Professor_ Snape, Ron", Hermione corrected, out of habit, "and I wasn't staring. I should've let the Tentacula strangle you!" She huffed, and in an uncharacteristic fit of rage, gathered her books. Ron, who was looking like he'd just received a howler, chanced a side glance at Harry. Harry hesitated, looking from Hermione to his red-headed friend, and then burst into laughter, followed quickly by Ron. Hermione scowled at them and stormed out of the Great Hall, the sounds of their howling laughs following her all the way back to the Gryffindor Common Room.

'_What a catastrophe of a first day.' _Hermione thought to herself as she climbed the stairs to the girl's dormitories, eager to rest until her Prefect duty began later that evening. The circular room was empty, as to be expected at such an early hour, and that was just fine for Hermione. She heatedly slid shut the draperies around her bed and collapsed beneath the covers, indulging herself with an overly dramatic sigh. Crookshanks followed suit, curling himself into a ball at her feet. She hadn't been meaning to sleep, but was soon overtaken by it, drifting off in the comforting silence of the dormitory.

* * *

The sound of snoring woke Hermione abruptly. She glanced through the window by her bed, and judging by the pitch black that met her eyes, she judged it to be past midnight.

'_Bollocks. There goes my night.'_ She thought, not meaning to sleep for this long. Suddenly, with a very audible gasp, she realized she'd slept through her Prefect hall-monitoring shift. Never before had she missed anything. This new revelation tipped the tower of irritation, and Hermione subsequently felt anger bubbling inside of her. Without thinking, she slipped a nightdress and robe on and grabbed her wand. Crookshanks howled and gave an offended _'meow'_ as she threw the covers off of her bed and left the room. The Common Room was empty, save for Seamus Finnegan, who was sprawled out on a couch by the fire, muttering in a very Irish accent in his sleep. She _wingardium-leviosa_'d a couple of crumpled pieces of parchment from the bin to hover over his head, and as she stormed out of the portrait hole, dropped them. A very loud grunt echoed through the area, followed by a jumble of obscene Irish slang.

She loved the castle at night. Six years of nightly strolls had given Hermione a certain confidence in strolling the empty halls while the whole place slept. She sometimes thought that the castle was enjoyed the quiet company, as she'd never been discovered or intercepted by Peeves. She quietly paced down the Grand Staircase, which captivatingly shifted to her needs, and upon reaching the first floor, stalked through the portrait gallery, taking care not to awaken any of the sleeping inhabitants of the paintings. She slipped through the entryway to the Viaduct, the huge stone bridge that led to the grounds of Hogwarts. This was her favorite place at night. Once safely outside, she paced for a few more moments on the bridge, before deciding she hadn't been seen and leaned against the railings. The fury that had been pulsing through her the entire day seemed to slowly abate, and Hermione let herself be swallowed up in the beautiful night. She could see the lake rippling, and assumed that the giant squid had just surfaced. The forest's trees occasionally swayed and rumbled as creatures of all types went about their nightly business. The stars were stunning, lighting up the landscape with a magnificent dim glow. The atmosphere calmed her, and forgetting her problems, she drifted into a state of near-sleep, head resting in her palms.

However, no sooner had she'd settled than a deep silky-smooth and unmistakably conceited voice rang through the shadows behind her.

"Well, well. A _prefect_ should know better than to be out of bed at this hour. How many points does this warrant, Miss Granger? 25? 50? Shall we make it 100, just to fulfill my intense desire to see what happens when a house has _negative_ _points_?"


	5. 5 - Severus

**Friends! Thank you for your follows. This chapter hasn't been fully revised and fixed yet, but I wanted to get it up while I had a chance. Getting back into the swing of writing. Enjoy, and review, and follow, and feel free to correct or suggest any issues you find. I promise I won't cry. Also- I'm looking for a beta (or two), if anyone's into that kind of thing. **

* * *

Severus had been meandering through Hogwarts' grounds when he saw a strange anomaly in the silhouette of the Viaduct. It seemed that there was a wayward student or ghost (a ghost being the more likely option, as it was almost dawn) leaning against the rail in one of the stone archways in the center of the bridge. He was tempted to pretend he hadn't seen it and remain where he was- the lake was stirring near him and he suspected that the infamous giant squid would soon make an appearance. He'd been out of his office since the middle of the night, when he grew tired of attempting to sleep and decided to have a stroll. After a hawkish few laps around the castle, searching for mischievous students and being wildly disappointed at the lack of rule-breakers. Late night point-taking was a great pastime; so much so that Minerva, Pomona, and Filius had stopped asking why their house hourglasses were noticeably lacking in gems during the occasional morning meal.

He'd resigned himself to pacing the grounds. Severus didn't often stroll the grounds at this hour, he had enough stress in his life and didn't need the added worry of dealing with whatever was stirring in the Forbidden Forest. Far too many times, years ago, he'd wandered the forest at night for amusement. After countless encounters with Aragog (the giant spider that Rubeus Hagrid for some reason thought was his pet), unruly centaurs, and one peculiar night with the very same enchanted car that Weasley and Potter had flown into the Whomping Willow four years ago, he'd finally had enough. He hadn't ventured inside for a long while. The lake was usually harmless at any time of day, grindylows and merpeople kept a low profile under the water, and the giant squid was in truth quite a gentle giant (though it did enjoy scaring the odd first-year with a surprise knock on the ship). So there he had been, strolling around the lake's perimeters. And then the anomaly.

He wrestled with the idea of going after whomever or whatever was on the bridge for a few moments. Realizing that his night had been interrupted the moment he spotted it, and that there was no going back to the quiet and peaceful stroll, he turned on his heel and cantered towards the bridge. Severus was particularly talented at keeping an inhuman level of silence about himself as he moved. Perhaps he'd subconsciously picked up his quietness in years of dealing with the Dark Lord. Maybe he'd picked it up from Dumbledore, who also had an incredible way of sneaking up on people; though Albus was admittedly much more of a delight to be surprised by. No one was happy to have the tall, dark, and imposing Severus Snape sneak up on them.

He reached the end of the Viaduct, and remaining in the shadows stalked towards the disruption in the stillness of the night. As he got closer, he saw that it was definitely human, and definitely a student. He couldn't help but smirk as he imagined the points he could deduct for being _outside of the castle_ at such an ungodly hour. The student was leaning over the rail of the bridge's arch, apparently in some kind of dream-like state. Whoever it was certainly didn't expect anyone else to be awake. As he prepared to go in for the kill, he realized who it was. The bushy brown hair and eerily correct posture gave her away immediately.

_Merlin. Maybe the world isn't so bad after all. The best friend of Potter. This will be fun._

He slowly stepped towards the girl, standing behind her and making himself as tall and menacing as he could.

"Well, well. A _Prefect _should know better than to be out of bed at this hour. What does this warrant, Miss Granger? 25? 50? Shall we make it 100, just to fulfil my intense desire to see what happens when a house has _negative points_?" He spoke the words slowly and with a poisonous tone, relishing in the girl's reaction. She jumped at his voice, and whipped around to face him. Her hair was dishevelled, sticking out in all directions. Brown eyes were puffy and red. She'd been sleeping. Her robes were barely covering her; one sleeve had slid down her arm and rested at her wrist.

_And Gods be good, what on Earth is that she's wearing beneath them?_

A nightgown that was better suited for a child was hanging off of her small frame. It was plastered in a cartoon that he'd never seen before. Her feet were bare. This was truly turning out to be a great night. He wanted to savour every moment of humiliating the Gryffindor.

"Snape! Uh, I-I'm sorry, PROFFESOR Snape, that is. I-was-just-patrolling-the-hallways-and-stepped-outside-for-a-breath-and-"

"Shut your mouth, insolent girl. It's almost dawn. You and I both know that patrolling the hallways was the last thing you were doing. Draco Malfoy informed me earlier this evening that you had missed a Prefect shift patrolling with him and a few others. Tut, tut." He sneered at the girl, his black eyes filled with malice.

"I-I know. Inexcusable. Sir, I-"

"Would happily take 100 points in penalty, along with detention for the next three Sundays? What's that, you would like to visit Professor McGonagall too, to confess what you've done?" Snape interrupted her, his voice dark and mischievous, "That was precisely what I was thinking, Granger. Come now, we'll go see Minerva now."

Hermione jumped at his dominating voice, and pulled her robe around herself. She was uncomfortable. In all his years, Severus never expected he'd be able to catch the know-it-all for a legitimate reason. He swept towards her in a rush of black robes and grabbed her arm, yanking her down the bridge back towards the castle.

"Speechless, Granger? Merlin, I never thought the day would come. I thought that your inane babbling was just a trait that came with every Muggle-born. The Creevey brothers are almost as bad as you are." He walked swiftly through the castle door, robes billowing behind him, his long legs keeping him at a fast pace. The girl was half-running, half-walking trying to keep up with him as he dragged her by the arm. He could hear the odd sob coming from her direction, sounding like a sweet symphony to his ears. By the time that they reached the portrait gallery, most of the paintings were stirring in response to the noise. Among the annoyed faces of painting after painting, he saw a flash of silver seemingly running through the portraits beside him as he walked.

"What is this villainy I see? Scoundrel! Release the damsel at once, or you'll meet the tip of my sword!" Sir Cadogan was following him with fervour. He knocked over several people in their portraits, and ran in to several tables, bowls, and trees as he sped through each frame. By the time they had reached the end of the hall he'd left a frenzy of whining paintings. Snape tried to swallow a chuckle, and ignored the enthusiastic knight in armour. Miss Granger was too upset to notice the knight, it seemed. She had visible tears flowing down her face now, and couldn't seem to stop crying.

By the time the pair had climbed all the way to the Gryffindor Tower, Sir Cadogan had all but given up. He was being pushed out of paintings that he trespassed, and was about three floors down from Severus, but could still be heard wheezing out his usual threats between heavy breaths.

"Carry on, noble steed! Our quest continues! We must rescue the big-haired princess!" Was the last thing Severus heard him shout. It was followed by an echoing _thump_; which Snape took to mean that Cadogan's horse had decided that it'd had enough. The skies were growing bluer and lighter by the minute. Severus knew that Minerva would be awake at this hour; she had a habit of waking before dawn and checking the halls and various alcoves of the castle for any sleeping students (she had a curious penchant for checking the dungeon floor, which Snape suspected was in retaliation for the points he took from her house). His inkling was verified as he heard the clatter of heels walking in his direction.

Minerva was looking as powerful and restrained as ever, her hair tied in a tight bun and a stern look on her face.

"Good morning, Sever- who is that behind you? Is that one of mine?"

"A sixth-year Gryffindor found on the Viaduct just before dawn. Sleeping."

"Potter, is it? Or Thomas? Finnegan was never well-behaved.." Minerva guessed, shaking her head in disapproval.

"You'll never believe this, Minerva," He shoved the Granger girl out in front of him, ridding himself of her as if she was suddenly poisonous, "I'll leave you to deal with her, I find I'm not quite in the mood. I've already given her three Sunday detentions with me." He turned on his heel and began to saunter away. He'd reached the stairwell when he suddenly turned around and shouted down the corridors.

"AND BEFORE I FORGET, ONE HUNDRED POINTS FROM GRYFFINDOR."

This was the happiest start to a day that he'd had during a school year in a long while. The absence of sleep hadn't even started to wear on him as it usually did. He made his way down to the Great Hall, where he figured he'd get an early breakfast and spend a few hours afterwards prepping for his Defence class. His plans, however, were thwarted, as usual by Albus. The old wizard stood in the doorway of the Great Hall, regarding Snape happily, his eyes glinting with their usual mischievous glare.

"Somehow, my dear Severus, I suspect you are the reason that Gryffindor's hourglass has gone negative."

"No idea what you're inferring, Albus." Snape replied curtly, stepping around the headmaster and into the hall, taking his usual place at the staff table.

"Breakfast doesn't begin for a few hours, I'm afraid." Albus said nonchalantly, his voice echoing through the empty hall.

"I suspect you can summon food from the kitchens at any hour, Albus." Snape said in a dry tone.

"Oh yes, I _can._ Severus, how many nights is it now that you've evaded sleep? The noble and gallant Sir Cadogan informed me of your tryst with Miss Granger. I fear I've asked too much of you, old friend. The weight of everything you must juggle is impairing your ability to sleep. I beg you, let me help. I may be an old man, but I am powerful. I can help you sleep."

"Cadogan called it a _tryst?_" Snape asked, incredously, "He makes it sound as if I am some fairy-tale villain who has captured a princess with the intent of making her a bed slave," he snorted at the ridiculousness, "I'm fine, Albus. If I needed help I would ask for it." He finished, giving Dumbledore a pleading glance.

_Leave it alone, old man. I won't be pitied by you. There are far more important things than the sleep of your faithful potions master._

"And about the food-" Snape began, but was feared he wasn't heard as Dumbledore turned and glided out of the room gracefully.

A few moments later, after Albus had been gone for some time, a hearty breakfast appeared on his plate. His goblet filled with pumpkin juice.

_Albus, your old fool. I can never stay upset with you. _


End file.
